Besides the fact that I’m not a rapist or drug addict…
The 77th annual Golden Globe Awards, which recognizes the best in film and television, will serve its A-list guests a 100% plant-based dinner. It’s the first major awards show to go entirely meatless. https://t.co/9QYNKXvS29
— Los Angeles Times (@latimes) January 2, 2020
I would have to have my driver stop by Morton’s Steakhouse and get a Porterhouse and a baked potato to go in a styrofoam container for me for the awards dinner.
I’d take beef jerky with me
but they GOTTA get their soy to keep their estrogen high!
Or have Grub Hub deliver a “Carnivores Delight” Pizza with a six pack. Extra Large size if you please..
I have never, ever, in my entire life felt any desire to eat pickled pigs’ feet. But, oh, what I wouldn’t give for a chance to sit at one of those tables with a giant jar of ‘em.
Hey, DiCaprio, pass the salt!
Don’t worry- once they have downed this swill and pretended to like it, most of them are going to go home and have Maria prepare a dinner of Waygu ribeye.
To Ish: Pickled pigs’ feet aren’t bad. They’re not really good, either. You could say they’re unique.
Back in the 90s I had the misfortune of representing my agency at a homeland security first responder “symposium” hosted by Jamie Gorelick. (Yeah, that Jamie Gorelick.) During the noon break, the “catered meal” consisted of cold vegetarian sandwiches. My mind has mercifully blocked what was in them, but the important thing was, no animals were harmed in making them. Needless to say, the sandwiches were in keeping with the wimpy policies Jamie was spewing. The room was exclusively full of cops and firemen, and they showed the same disdain for both the bullshit coming out of Jamie’s mouth and the bullshit going into theirs.
It’s a long-standing policy of mine to try anything I’m offered… and to try it at least two or three times before I decide I don’t like it. You never know, maybe the first time it was just prepared poorly or something. I spent decades convinced I hated green beans, then my husband showed me how to cook them a different way than my mom always had. Now I can’t get enough of ‘em.
So when my family hiked on out to the remote corner of West Virginia where my paternal great-grandmother was celebrating her 100th Birthday on the family farm and my third- and forth-cousins decided to prepare chitlins (steamed, baked, fried, and a few dozen other preparations) because they were “Gigi’s favorite food.” I tried them all. Hated every mouthful.
Years later, a friend of mine invited me as his guest to his family reunion in Detroit. Massive African-American and African-Caribbean family, the sheer size and complexity of which made my sprawling Scotch-Irish Catholic extended family tree look like a small weed. Amongst the heaping piles of soul food there were, of course, chitlins. (steamed, baked, fried, and a few dozen other preparations… I tried them all. Hated every mouthful.
I hereby feel justified in saying I hate chitlins.
I’ve never wanted to eat pigs’ feet. I won’t ever make plans to eat pigs’ feet… But if I’m ever in a situation where my host offers me a trotter, I’ll be polite and try it. You never know…
If you order out for pizza, be sure to get enough to tempt others…